


The Bee's Sting

by theobligatedklutz



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Cyrus works at The Spoon, F/M, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Gangs, M/M, Smoking, Swearing, drug mention, gun mention, the spoon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 06:57:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20041792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theobligatedklutz/pseuds/theobligatedklutz
Summary: In the small town of Shadyside where a constant war struck between opposing sides, TJ Kippen fell in love with a beautiful boy with a bitter side.- A modern story about star-crossed lovers. -





	The Bee's Sting

It had started out like any normal day. Except they had missed early breakfast at the Rattlesnake, a diner down the street from Marty's house, and while they were bickering about who's fault it was --

_ "Jonah, you slept in." _

_ "Yeah, well, you were still getting ready when I left my house, TJ." _

\-- Betty, their waitress, suggested they go to the diner on the next street over since "_they served breakfast until noon_." And as they would have it, there it was: a quaint place on the corner of Western Street. The Spoon was a completely different experience. It was a softer place with big windows filtering in sunlight with pastel greens and brilliant yellows, reds and beach wave blues painting the furniture and walls. The smell of eggs and bacon blanketed the air, heightened by the sound of sizzling food from the kitchen. What really pulled the whole place together was the beginnings of Joy Division's _ Love Will Tear Us Apart _ reverberating from the jukebox. 

They looked extremely out of place in their dark jackets and ripped jeans but breakfast was a Saturday tradition they weren't willing to give up even if it meant eating at peppy little places that looked like the sun had come down himself to paint the walls.

"You boys look hungry." A short lady came walking towards them with a kettle of coffee in hand, TJ noticed the way she eyed the tattoo that started just below his ear and covered the majority of the side of his neck, before meeting his gaze. Instead of the hostility he was used to, she surprised him with a sweet smile and led them to a booth near the front, by the window.

They'd just sat down, Marty and Jonah chattering away their order to the waitress, when TJ noticed him for the first time.

A lithe boy, clad in the pale green diner uniform, wrapped an apron around his waist and proceeded to grab plates of pancakes and scrambled eggs from the counter to deliver them to the designated tables. 

He smiled brightly at a family sitting on the table adjacent to TJ's, leaning down and saying "hello" to their youngest daughter as he pushed a plate her way. 

The boy was the epitome of an angel walking the earth. He had these warm whiskey eyes framed with deep laugh lines and a smile so radiant TJ felt blown away by how blinding it was. In the light, his brown hair looked cascading gold and he appeared all too fair as if a bright glow spilt from his skin.

The boy looked up just then, turning away from the table and their eyes connected for only a few seconds but it felt like more. Like maybe a lifetime and maybe just beyond that.

TJ couldn't stop staring, frozen in his seat as he took in how beautiful the boy was, like freshly fallen snow and dew on roses. The boy's lips perked up with a light smile, amusement written on his face, and he fidgeted with the white neckerchief around his neck -- a nervous quirk -- before looking away, resuming his work at the other side of the diner.

"_TJ_." 

"Huh, what?" 

Marty watched him, an eyebrow raised, following his gaze and turning around to see who he was staring at. 

"Marty, fucking don't."

But it was too late, Marty was circling back to face him, a smirk on his face.

Jonah looked up from the menu then. "What?"

"Our boy's in love."

"Shut up."

"Hun, anything else?"

TJ looked up at the lady taking their order, Greta, by the nametag, and realized he hadn't ordered anything and Greta looked awfully unimpressed by their antics.

"Huh. Yeah, pancakes and coffee, black. Thank you."

After that, TJ would make every excuse to have breakfast, lunch, dinner, anything at The Spoon just to get a peek at the waiter. He stopped trying to fool his friends because his eyes told it like it was. 

He didn't know what it was about this boy but he felt a deep ache in his chest at not knowing him personally, not knowing the feel of his skin, not knowing how it could feel to have that smile of his directed at TJ, not knowing his voice. Maybe, you could call it love. Or a crush. Or infatuation. But he needed to know what it was before it ate him alive, before he got addicted to this diner's coffee and couldn't go back.

But most importantly, before he got addicted to the cute waiter who worked at the diner at the corner of Western street.

-

On the third straight day at the diner, TJ found out his name. The boy had never taken their order so TJ never got a chance to catch his name but it looked like fate was on his side because sweet, old Greta was there to balm the agonizing pain of only knowing the waiter as _ Pretty Boy _ in his head.

"Cyrus, honey, do you mind taking out the trash?" Greta had called out to him, hooking a finger over her shoulder at the kitchen. "It's getting pretty full in there."

"Sure." Cyrus had nodded, smiling his friendly little lip again and proceeding to do just that and Greta had turned to TJ with a knowing grin on her face and TJ's mouth fell open.

It wasn't fate that was on his side. It was Greta.

Then-

It finally happened.

Cyrus took their order and TJ fucked up his chances.

"What can I get you?" Cyrus asked, pulling his notepad and pen out of his apron and stepping closer to the table.

"Can I get a cheeseburger with a side of you."

He hadn't meant to. He really hadn't. His heart had started beating faster and his mind had gone blank the minute Cyrus had come within close proximity. TJ had always used his player persona on every ogling girl and guy that approached him but he'd never wanted to do it with this boy. In his panic and need to make himself look witty and impressive, he had been a complete dumbass who had used the sleaziest and cheesiest pickup in his arsenal.

Now, he couldn't take it back.

Cyrus looked up from his notepad with a disinterested look on his face and gave the leather clad teenage boy a once over and sighed. None of Cyrus' signature smile even remotely close to his face and TJ knew he truly lost his one good chance to make a grand first impression. Cyrus proceeded to point out a sign taped to the wall behind him with the words 

**ANY CATCALLING OR ATTEMPT AT PICKING UP EMPLOYEES WILL RESULT IN A COMPLETE BAN OF PERPETRATOR(S) FROM THE PREMISE.**

"Sorry, our employee policy strongly advises against accepting any form of gross objectifying pickup lines. Especially from a manboy who covers up his insecurities with a wall of hair gel. Consider this a warning and would you like anything else with that?"

It was a practiced response as if the boy had heard that line a hundred times over in his career as a waiter and had an automated voice set up for when it happened. 

Oh fuck. 

Cyrus the cute waiter had layers. It wasn't just smiles and amused looks and beauty, he was straight up seething fire when you got on his bad side. He couldn't be bothered with the concept of _customer is always right_ _(even when they are total shit)_ anymore and he definitely couldn't be bothered by TJ "total sleazebag" Kippen and most importantly, he didn't give a crap about the tattoo on his neck or the brand on his jacket.

Cyrus was _ brave_. In a town where bravery got you killed, Cyrus was brave, fiery and someone to be reckoned with.

That was the very first time TJ ever talked to Cyrus and it only served to make him more infatuated with the waiter.

He gladly suffered through the jokes his friends made and the teasing and the laughs at the brutal way Cyrus had rejected his poorly constructed pickup line. He had no regrets because Cyrus addressed him like no man ever could, fearlessly and confident. Something he didn't really receive, most people feared him, afraid to look him in the eye but Cyrus didn't care or he didn't know. Either way TJ would do it again just so he could hear the wit of the boy's voice.

-

The second time he talked to Cyrus, TJ was standing outside _ Maxxy's_, a convenient store just around the corner of the poor district of Shadyside. It had been about a week since he had last seen the boy at the diner but he'd planned on going back to get another glance at him just so he didn't die of withdrawal.

But it seemed like fate had other plans because there he was.

_There he was._

The same Cyrus usually dressed in a pale green waiter's uniform and a white apron strutted off a black bike in a shiny leather jacket and ripped knee overalls with his hair suave, looking like he could kill you with his smile. With his bright eyes and devil-may-care strut, he made everyone around him freeze in his presence: both out of shock at such beauty and respect for how much power he exuded by his simple grace.

The cigarette that hung freshly ablaze in TJ's mouth startled at the sight, leading a plunging death down onto the ground but TJ couldn't come to care that he had just wasted a rare and expensive stick, one he'd been trying to get for months, not when all he could think about was _this was the boy he had seen working in that diner, the same boy with the tender smile._

The second thought that took over his mind was an agressive need to know. _He wanted to know Cyrus._

Two girls stepped off their respective bikes next to Cyrus', and followed him as he talked animatedly about something or other. They were clearly familiars because TJ knew for a fact that they were Bees. Buffy Driscoll, the brash and bold one, who wore her gang jacket like combative gear. Andi Mack, her shoulder length hair up in a red bandana, in fishnets and sharp brass knuckles. TJ didn't even have to glance at their necks to see if they had the opposing gang tattoo. They'd made themselves pretty well known.

But how did Cyrus fall into all this? What was the haloed boy doing hanging with two teenage girls that could eat him for breakfast? Two Bees. 

You see, Shadyside was separated into two divisions. One was owned by the Bees who were known for their brutal force and expensive wines. The other was owned by the Coyotes who made a name for themselves selling expensive and cheap cigars alike and played a rebellious and violent game with anyone who crossed them. TJ was part of the Coyotes. In fact, he was the inheritor of the business after the old man kicked the bucket and with that came a sense of pride that made him narcissistic and unbeatable.

The Bees and Coyotes had always been fighting for power and it was almost instinctual to go stiff in the other group's presence, your fingers inching towards your sharpest or quickest weapon. Bonus points if you had both in one.

Yet here in this very moment, TJ had done nothing but stared while his two best friends straightened up and searched out their best chance in a fight.

Cyrus walked past him, without giving him or his friends a second look and it was like he was in a trance because TJ found himself following the group inside, ignoring the way Marty and Jonah hissed out his name. He watched from the store entrance as Cyrus waved a friendly hand at Maxxy behind the counter and the man responded by looking up from his newspaper and smiling indulgently at him as if the boy was his own son.

"Hey Maxxy. How are ya?"

"Good, Cy. You?"

"Could be better. Which is why I'm here." Cyrus said as he grabbed a few bags of Cheetos and a bottle of Sprite off the shelves, depositing them onto the counter quickly. Buffy pushed a pack of Twizzlers onto the pile and Andi threw a pack of floss in there, no apparent surprise shown by the group at her choice.

"Lemme take that." TJ's mouth went off on it's own accord and before he knew it, he was moving towards the counter, towards the four pairs of eyes staring at him in confusion.

_ Was this a peace offering? Was this courtship behaviour? _ He couldn't tell.

He grabbed his wallet out of his jacket pocket but before he could hand the cash over, Cyrus was speaking.

“Thank you but I can take care of my own.” 

"Might as well let him. This miscreant only spends his money on smokes. Would be good on him to help a kind soul like you for a change." Maxxy chuckled, looking disapprovingly in the direction of TJ.

"Thanks, Maxxy. But you know I don't like owing people." Cyrus smiled tightly at TJ, placing a number of crisp bills into Maxxy’s hands. 

“Hey slick, step off.” Buffy hissed, stepping threateningly towards TJ.

There was a tense silence for a moment before Cyrus broke it with a sigh, settling a hand on Buffy's shoulder, gesturing for her to stand down. “_Buffy_, we talked about this."

He turned towards TJ then, amusement in his eyes. “How was your cheeseburger?”

Right then and there, TJ froze. _ Cyrus remembered_. Why would he even forgot? It had only happened last week but TJ was banking on the idea that Cyrus saw so many faces each day that he'd forget. He thought he'd get another chance for a second first impression.

But he licked his lips, straightened his shoulders and put on a mask of confidence.

"For a matter of fact, it was delicious." He smirked. "I was missing my side though."

Cyrus' smile only grew and then he was tugging down the neck of his sweater, revealing a tattoo painted near his collarbone and TJ's breath froze solid in his lungs.

A little intricately drawn bee perched on his skin, applied in such perfection that it almost looked alive. The kicker though was the crown floating above and a band of gold in the wings of the bee like none other he'd ever seen. He'd seen too many of those tattoos but he had never seen gold or monarchy but he'd heard enough about the symbols to know what was up. The infamous boss that ran the Bees had a gold adorned tattoo. From hearsay, it apparently symbolized a queen bee. But more importantly, it symbolized leadership and the Goodman family. 

_ Fuck_. 

_ No. _

_ Cyrus was in a _ _gang. _ Not only that, Cyrus was the top tier of the gang. And to really make the shit hit the fan, _ Cyrus was a fucking Goodman. Fuckfuckfuck- _

_ It all made sense now, why Cyrus didn't let TJ's attitude back at the diner go unchecked. _

"By the look on your face, I'm guessing you know who I am. But I'll introduce myself anyway, Cyrus Goodman, son of Norman Goodman." He said, bringing a hand up for TJ to shake.

_ Shit. He was the _ son _ of the fucking mob boss. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He had pulled a fucking dumb, over the top, unsavoury pickup line on the son of a mob boss. He was so screwed._

Now, and this is important, hearing the name of the tyrant that was Norman Goodman would've made the strongest man wet their pants and TJ was not immune to that. Except, TJ was born with a death wish and was the offspring of cruelty himself which made it easy to pull the smirk over his face and shake Cyrus' hand even with the red flags hopping about in his head trying to get his attention. Shaking the hand of the enemy. A classic, Kippen.

"Nice to meet you, Cyrus Goodman. TJ Kippen."

"I'm aware. You're kind of obvious." Cyrus gestured to his jacket. Custom made and identity driven so everyone knew who he was: the top gun. 

"You're not. What the hell are you doing working at a diner?" TJ asked, feeling something loosen in his shoulders at the warm grip of Cyrus' hand. They both realized they'd been shaking hands for far too long and split apart, schooling their expression at about the same time as if to keep their audience off of their tracks. 

"Trying to make some honest money." Cyrus responded as he gathered the merchandise that Maxxy had so graciously bagged for him, giving the sage man another smile and thanking him.

"I'll bet." TJ laughed, stepping next to him as he left the store.

"I'm trusting you to keep it a secret. Not many know who I truly am. Hence, the carefree job opportunity."

"And what if I don't? Did no one ever tell you not to trust a Coyote?"

"Oh ho, did no one ever tell you never to cross a Bee?"

"Oh and what'll you do?" TJ nudged his shoulder testing the limits but instead of throwing him a warning look like TJ expected, Cyrus nudged right back, a small smile gracing his face.

"You don't wanna know." Cyrus responded, raising an eyebrow in a challenge.

"Well, I'll keep it a secret as long as you-"

"Cyrus, we should really get going." Andi gritted out cutting off TJ's quip and that's when TJ noticed the way the girls stood alert, quiet but calculating, and following with a ready step, ready to pounce at any little threatening gesture of TJ's.

A few words came to mind as TJ watched their stiff body language, Buffy's hand at her belt like she had a gun packed away at her waist and Andi's balled up fists ready for a fight. _ Protective best friends. Fighters. _ But one stayed afloat: _ bodyguards. _

"Right." Cyrus sighed and there was this sad tone to it that TJ couldn't quite figure out. Not yet anyway.

"Teej, ready to go?" 

TJ looked up at Marty and Jonah, who looked upon his company with an inquisitive kind of horror and TJ stared back at them, at the gang patches decorating their jackets and the baseball bat Jonah carried with him leaning against the side of his bike and he realized something very quickly.

They both belonged to brutality.

It was in their blood and in their walk and in the company they kept. 

And then, he realized something else.

Cyrus was beautiful, clever and witty, radiant but completely and utterly unattainable. His infatuation for the boy had to end here, diminish into dust right here and now, because Cyrus Goodman was a Bee and TJ Kippen was a Coyote. Two dangerous sides to the same coin. And they could never even consider a friendship, let alone a relationship. That was a huge no-no. A star crossed whatever. He'd read about forbidden love before and it never ended with love, just death. _ Fuck you, Shakespeare._

_Why the fuck couldn't his life reach a smidge of simplicity? He didn't even get the boy._

TJ stepped away, walking backwards towards his friends just so he could stare at Cyrus a while longer, drinking in the sight of Cyrus' soft almost _longing _eyes and he smiled forlornly.

"See you around, Coyote." Cyrus called out as he got back onto his bike, fiddling with his helmet. 

It was in a tone of comradery, provoking TJ to banter back but the bitterness of walking away from Cyrus -- a boy who seemed all to unreal like he was from one of TJ's made up dreams of meeting his match -- that covered his mouth like a sticky coating left him less than willingly to keep it going, to keep living in a dream.

"See you around, Cyrus." TJ lit another cigarette, gulped down the love-struck sorrow in his throat, and turned away.

_ They could never. _

And just as that thought settled in his mind, he thought he heard the soft strum of_ Love Will Tear Us Apart _in the distance.

  
  
  



End file.
